Bare Ruin'd Choirs by the Secret Squirrels

A story of love,
hope,
and celebration.

with this ring...

Bare Ruin'd Choirs received three 2002 Spookys Awards (2nd place -- Outstanding Non NC-17 MSR; 2nd place -- Outstanding Collaboration; 3rd place -- Outstanding Mid-Length Story) and four 2002 Spookys Honorable Mentions (Outstanding Apocalypse/Post Colonization; Outstanding Use of Mytharc in a Story; Outstanding Other Series Character Characterization [Bill Jr.] and Outstanding Other Series Character Characterization [Langly])

BARE RUIN’D CHOIRS

By the Secret Squirrels
Story bridge by aka "Jake"

E-Mail Address: Secret-Squirrels@yahoogroups.com

DISTRIBUTION: Please ask. It's likely we'll say yes and be flattered, t' boot.
SPOILERS: Through Season 8
RATING: PG-13
CLASSIFICATION: S, MSR

SUMMARY: Marriage is more than a union of bodies, minds and hearts. It is a joining of souls.

DISCLAIMER: These characters belong to Chris Carter, FOX and 1013 Productions. We use them to pay homage, not bills.

Author's notes at end.

Text only version.

"Bare Ruin'd Choirs" is also available in Japanese. Thanks go to Tomo for generously translating our story and to Hisayo for giving it a Japanese home.


PROLOGUE PART 1 PART 2 PART 3 PART 4 PART 5 PART 6 PART 7

BARE RUIN'D CHOIRS
By the Secret Squirrels

PROLOGUE

- - - - - - - - - -

That time of year thou may'st in me behold
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold;
Bare ruin'd choirs where late the sweet birds sang.
In me thou see'st the twilight of such day
As after sunset fadeth in the west;
Which by and by black night doth take away,
Death's second self, that seals up all in rest.
In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire,
That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,
As the death-bed, whereon it must expire,
Consumed with that which it was nourish'd by.
This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong,
To love that well, which thou must leave ere long.

                                            --William Shakespeare

- - - - - - - - - -

ST. JOHN'S CATHOLIC CHURCH
ALEXANDRIA, VIRGINIA
MARCH 20, 2003
10:23 AM

“Father McCue? It’s getting late. Isn’t it?” Mulder asks.

“It’s not late,” the priest assures him.

McCue’s words go unheard; Mulder’s attention is fixed on the opposite end of St. John’s long aisle, where the door is open but there is no sign of the processional.

“Fox.” McCue puts a hand on Mulder’s shoulder, angling for his attention. “It’s not late.”

This time Mulder hears him, nods, and offers the priest a tentative smile.

“Sorry, Father. I’m a bit nervous.”

“Me, too,” McCue confides. Mulder clearly doesn’t believe him, so the priest continues, “I’m a little rusty, you know. Haven’t officiated a wedding for quite a while...times being what they are.”

Mulder seems to understand. His attention wanders back to the door. McCue looks out over the congregation.

For fifteen years Father McCue has ministered this parish and the view from the pulpit has never ceased to stir his heart. St. John’s is a large church. Its generous center aisle divides a vast nave, running more than fifty yards from transept to portal. This morning, only a handful of guests dot the foremost pews and the choir loft sits barren. Doesn’t matter. They are here to celebrate. God is with them.

McCue considers the importance of their gathering. Marriage is a very serious, holy, and permanent event -- more than a union of bodies, minds and hearts. It is a joining of souls.

He suspects the souls of this particular bride and groom were mated long ago. A heavenly match, in the truest sense, divined by the hand of God. Today they are gathered to acknowledge this sample of His handiwork, praise His blessed plan, and officially marry Fox Mulder and Dana Scully.

The groom is anxious to get started -- or to get finished -- and rocks from foot to foot.

“‘Through faith and patience inherit the promises,’” McCue quotes, hoping to calm him.

“I’m afraid God overlooked me when he was doling out patience, Father. It’s never been one of my strengths.”

“I think Dana might disagree. She--”

“Daddeeee!” Mulder’s young son squeals from the front pew. As restless as his father, he sits squirming on Melvin Frohike’s lap.

Frohike whispers something into little William’s ear and the boy bursts into giggles. While Frohike winks at Mulder, William chants “Daddeedaddeedaddee.”

- - - - - - - - - -

Go to Part 1: FROHIKE’S STORY by mimic117